A White Rose on a Black Carpet
by TheFunkyDurian
Summary: Harry must take a bite out of his one true love and kill her, in exchange for his mortality. The problem is, what's the use of living a mortal life if the main reason of your existence is gone? Thus, he struggles and finds a way to change this.hhr vampire
1. The Prologue:The birth of the White Rose

**A/N: This was just something I came up with while I passed through this gothic store in one of malls here in our city. Enjoy!**

**Thefunkydurian**

XxxXxxXxxXxx

An eerie feeling ran through the veins of Ms. Hermione Granger as she walked briskly through the dark, deserted road. The moon was full, seemingly illuminating nothing but the pitch-black pathway she was leading. The absence of the stars left her feeling unprotected, alone and unsafe. Beads of cold sweat dripped down her forehead as she passed through the forest, with tall winding trees-so mysterious. She squealed, later feeling completely idiotic as she came into realization that a mere owl was the cause of her fear. She clutched onto her handbag tightly, completely regretting that she had finished work so late in the night. She had promised her boss an extension in her work hours, due to the recent absences she had.

"Merlin, help me." She whispered in desperation as she practically ran through miles and miles of tall trees and rustling leaves. It was a different scenario every afternoon, though. She would be caught merrily walking through the same forest, humming to a familiar tune blasting from her earphones and happily greeting the people she passes by.

Now was completely different.

The pathway seemed endless, and the roads were completely deserted. The horrific sounds of silence and rustling were the only things she heard, and pitch black was the only thing she saw. Hermione could see the cold mist coming out of her mouth as she clutched her coat tightly around her. She was tired of running-she felt stupid, knowing that she was running from nothing. Fear, she considered, but the solution was still far from her.

Hermione slowed down, panting as she knelt down on the grassy grounds. She had never been this terrified in her life. She had her fair share of fears, yes-but all those were merely something so small or useless. This was a whole different story. She tucked a lone strand of her auburn hair behind her ear, getting enough air for her to gain all her composure back. As she slowly lifted a foot off the ground, she screamed in sheer pain as she felt a terrible sting just by the side of her foot. Panic stricken, she desperately cried for help. She stared, horrified, at the sharp blade that protruded just by her ankle. Blood started to trickle down onto the grass, causing it to whither to the ground as it was continuously colorized.

"Help me, please! I cant walk!" She cried out, limping through the tall trees. She had attempted to pull the blade out, but it would only lead to more unbearable pain. She looked through the misty forest, only screaming in utter horror as she saw a silhouette leaning by a tree just a few meters away from her.

"G-get away from me! What do you want?" She screamed, slowly backing away. She saw the figure move and slowly walk towards her. She threw her handbag at him, but failingly missing. She was now crying, crawling desperately as far away from the figure as she can go. Her foot started to throb, leaving her in more pain than she already is. Reaching the end of the straight path, she looked behind her, only finding the figure standing just inches away.

"What do you want from me?" She asked as small, glimmering tears fell on her face. He stepped closer, and finally into the light. Hermione gasped as she stared at the shining, emerald eyes that met hers. She knew him. She knew him very well. He used to haunt her every night in her sleep, and continue on as she went through her day. She lived through fear of actually seeing him...and now she has-and she's as scared as ever. She looked back at him, tears glistening in her eyes. The round glasses he had on, and the bangs from his raven-black, tousled hair that fell on his face camouflaged his vengeful eyes. He wore a loose leather jacket, with nothing inside but his bare chest, glimmering with sweat. The baggy, Capri pants he had on accentuated his handsome features-Hermione was simply entranced.

"Hello Hermione." He said in a husky voice, having a smirk planted on his face. Hermione gulped hard as she tried to avoid his gaze, which seemed to hypnotize her each time she stared back. He knelt down on one knee beside her and placed his hand on the blade that caused her bad wound. She loved his gentle touch on her skin, leaving her breathless. With a soft 'pop', the blade came off, having Hermione sigh in relief. He swept his hands through her ankles and up to her knees. He stopped just by her kneecap and grinned. Hermione looked down on her wound, surprisingly finding it gone. All that was left was a mark, shaped as a white rose on her ankle. She looked up at him in awe and wonder.

"Who are you?" She asked in a whisper. He slowly shifted his hands from her knees and onto her face. She held her breath as she felt his cold hands on her cheek. Their faces were inches away, and their eyes were seemingly seeping into each other's soul. He neared his lips into her ears and whispered.

"Why would that matter?" He asked in the same husky voice he let out moments ago. She quivered in his touch, feeling his hot breath touch the bare of her neck.

"Why are you doing this to me?" She asked, feeling the shivers that ran throughout her whole body as he caressed her scratched arm. He smirked by her hair as he let his knee rest just between her resting legs. Beads of cold sweat were dripping from Hermione's forehead as she gasped in what seemed to be horror and delight.

"Wouldn't you want to know." He said, sinking his fangs gently into her bare neck. Hermione gasped once more in pain as she tilted her back, feeling the blood trickle down her neck. She wrapped her arms around his neck, tightly shutting her eyes and biting her bottom lip. She squeezed hard onto his shaggy hair as she moaned in pain.

"Stop, please." She whispered, having her bottom lip bleed. She felt a gush of pain seep through her body- mocking poison, to say the least. Finally, he released his fangs from her bare neck, having her close her eyes slowly in weakness.

He grinned with so much achievement.

"Come with me, Hermione. Leave with me." He said as he stood up and carried her from the ground. Hermione limped from his arms and moaned, having the blood dry from her neck. She was turning pale and weak. Her tears have gone dry and her neck has gone white.

"Would it be sinful for me to say that I already love you?" She said weakly, having her hands clutch the back of his neck. He stopped abruptly and stared at her weak face. He contemplated for a moment, having known that this was all just a game- a game he loved to play with many others.

"Would it?" She asked again.

"Yes."

"Good." She said as she bent up with all her strength and kissed him passionately. He held onto her tightly, as if she were a piece of treasure. No, she was. She was everything to him, and yet he had only known now. His fangs had retracted long after he had bit from her innocent neck. All that was left was passion-deep passion that burned inside of him.

Hermione retreated from him, breathing heavily as she licked what was left of her blood on her lips.

"Tell me your name." She asked, breathing the remains of the air surrounding her. He kissed her on the forehead and grinned.

"Harry."

"Take me to immortality." She whispered as she slowly closed her sparkling, cinnamon eyes. Harry grinned as wings of deep blue and silver protruded from his bare back.

"I just did, my love." And then, on his arms, she had gone.

It was time.

Immortality was such a great thing. One with such power shall not abuse it. People, so potentially infinite and everlasting shall not be challenged upon. Especially one with holds to such an infinite number of beauty and grace...Harry had found her at last.

Hermione opened her eyes with one flash as the moon shone it's brightest. Harry looked down expectantly at her and smiled.

"Is it time?" She asked so innocently. Her eyes never sparkled it's brightest, and her skin was tan and glistening, just as of the man who was carrying her with so much love. Her clothes had faded into ones of leather- a corset was wrapped around her petit waist and a skirt that reached just above her knees rested just below her hips. Her neatly groomed hair cascaded down her shoulders so elegantly-Harry adores her.

"It's time." He said. With one push, He carried her high up into the sky and beyond the swooning moon above them. She was the one. The white rose lying on the black carpet--the night sky.


	2. The White Rose: The First Death

**  
ONE**

Hermione woke up with a gasp, her chest heaving. It was a dream. The same dream over and over and over again, she wondered as to why. She looked back at her clock.

_'Exactly 3 am. Bloody perfect.'_

She wondered as to how she could wake up like that. From her last dream, she had woken up at exactly 2 am, and the last one at exactly 1. A cycle, was it? She had wondered if she was secretly cursed-_'nah'_, she thought. Beads of cold sweat were still dripping from her forehead. Tonight's dream was metaphorically, hell. All the macabre, horror, darkness, pain-supernaturalism...passion. She had never felt so wanted in her life. She felt stupid though, falling in love with her own fictional character.

She bit her lip as her head started to throb. That scene of heated romance replayed in her head. She tried to fight the urge to fall asleep once again and re-live the dream once more. She had loved it. Her heart was beating fast- a fire was burning inside of her.

It had only dawned on her now that she already knew him...

_"Harry." _She whispered.

...and had helplessly, immortally fallen in love with him. She closed her eyes for a moment, recalling the events in the dream. She fled with him-she had sworn herself to sin for him.

But it was all merely a dream. A fantasy. A fictional story authored by the subconscious mind. A nightmare. It couldnt be real.

She stood up from her bed, wrapping her silk bathrobe around her tightly. Her flat was quiet, as usual. Her beloved feline Crookshanks was sleeping soundly by the fireplace. Grasping the switch, she flicked it open. The lights flickered on and off, leaving Hermione afraid. She closed it again, leaving her back into the pitch-black darkness of her flat. With a deep breath, she clicked the lights open once more.

It stayed there.

The flickering was gone.

_"Weird." _She whispered as walked passed the coffee table and by her bookshelf. She browsed slowly through her collection, until she laid her hands on a hardbound book, which seemed to be soaked in wine.

"Where did this come from?" She had asked herself. Crookshanks had already wakened and snuggled himself by her feet. Hermione bent down slightly and tickled the back of his ears. Going back on the book, she pulled it out from the rest and dragged it along with her on the couch. Crookshanks followed, quietly laying next to her-curious as well. She opened the soaked pages-only wrinkling her eyebrows in confusion.

It had dried up.

"Well, that's quite odd now, isn't it Crookshanks?" she had asked her feline friend. He merely nodded in agreement. She browsed through the stained pages, wondering on as to why they would waste such a big amount of paper to publish a mere sentence repeated over and over again. It was typed right in the middle of each page containing the same phrase.

"Clearly, those who published this were either pseudo-intellectual environmentalists or just plain prats. Such a waste, really-don't you think, Crookshanks?" She asked again. Crookshanks had not replied, which caused Hermione to roll her eyes in amusement.

"It is clear, though, that I am boring you." She had said-she knew that she was just making the best of this situation. She was terrified, really. The memory of her dream still haunts her. The strong aroma of stale wine had circulated in her flat, and she couldn't help but feel light headed. At the 66th page of the book, she had stopped.

A word had changed from the phrase.

"That's definitely odd." She had whispered to herself.

_All you really need is love and happiness, for you to survive through this whirlwind called life._

Was what was said at the first beginning pages. But then, Hermione had noticed that some words have faded.

_All you need for you to survive is life._

Hermione considered the fact that this may be some surprise gift given by her aunt. Yes, she had remembered the last time her aunt had given her a book-she was a minimalist type of person-thus explaining the book that had a mere dot on each page. She said it was art-Hermione said it was 'unique', although she had another word in mind.

She wrinkled her eyebrows once again. The phrase didn't make any sense at all. How does one survive if he or she doesn't have a hold on life? _'...to survive IS life.' _She thought. _'the book is implying that I am lifeless? How could one live or survive without life? That's just completely idiotic.' _she argued to herself. _'Whoever wrote this book must have his facts straight...' _She turned the page once more, only finding a single word written in the middle.

Hermione gasped.

_Run._

Hermione shut the book quickly and threw it onto the floor. Im just hallucinating, she thought. It was merely just a phrase...what could it do to her? She jumped as she heard her cup smash just behind her. Looking back, she screamed in terror as she saw something so gruesome and horrific. Her heart rate was quickening as she ran quickly into her room and shut it tight.

Pinned by glass and lifeless on the wall was Crookshanks, smothered in his own innocent blood. Hermione was rocking back and forth on her bed, sobbing hysterically. How could she have not seen anything? How could she have not watched over her beloved pet?

Who would do such a thing?

She asked herself over and over again. She had been so caught up in the book that she hadnt noticed her pet dying helplessly behind her.

But then she stopped.

Who could've murdered Crookshanks if she was all alone in her flat? Hermione's blood went cold. She did not want to dwell on that-no, not now. Was she being haunted?

No, She didnt want to think about that. Not at a situation like this.

She folded the blanket over her head and shut her eyes tight. She was afraid to sleep-she feared of seeing him again. Every situation was not safe-awake or not.

She dismissed all fears and slowly drifted off to sleep, having in mind that she was now completely alone.

Emerald eyes twinkled in the midst of the darkness in her bedroom, and a lonesome smile was being formed. He made sure to leave a message before he left through the open windows. Looking back, he looked in remorse at the glowing red letters he had left for her to read.

"Break me, Hermione. I need you." He said as he flew into the night sky-red glowing letters gave out their effervescence, stating a simple 'Im Sorry.'

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOO

Harry walked into his dark flat, running a hand through his hair. He didn't quite know why he was doing this-night was starting to drift away and morning was staring to fade into the earth. Blood was smeared onto his hands as it started to dry up. His face was filled with guilt.

He blamed his dead father.

Yes, he dare disrespect him. He made him like that, after all- cursing him into something he truly despises. He had no choice but to roam free every night and cause nothing but misery and pain to other people.

Damn him, he thought.

His father was a vampire who had married a mere mortal-his mother, Lily. James was known as Hanzib Flanders by night, roaming the allies and feeding on innocent blood. He takes riches from those that roam alone in the streets, and greedily feeds on them to protect himself. Lily had known about this ever since she had met him. She learned to accept him--to try to understand him and his way of life. She had warned him dozens of times to stay away from trouble and just stray from the others.

He was an idiotic father.

He dared not to listen, leaving Harry and his mother alone at night-wondering on as to how many lives he would be taking. Lily was thankful that Harry had not inherited James' curse, though. He was mortal, just like her.

Until James had gone beyond his limitations. Marvolo Riddle, the god of the night, had requested all first borns of all vampires be brought to him for his blessing. James, being the obedient servant he was, brought his son willingly. He had known how the blessing rituals go.

A blade, with a skull encrusted upon it, is pierced through the wrist of the child. Here then will they become immortal and live life through the night as vampires and as mere mortals by day.

But upon this is a prophecy. Those who wish to escape from this curse must take the life of the one they truly love for their own sake. James had not even wished to do this for he was happy-he was happy the way he was. Coming home to Lily that night, he had shown a pale infant in front of her. She had gone hysterical and sobbed through the night.

James had felt himself die that day.

Midnight struck that night and he had decided. He had sipped from her neck, having him turn mortal once again. He grabbed the knife from his drawer and cut through himself, lying beside his wife. How could he be so selfish? So deluded?

Harry looked down at his wrist, staring heatedly at the mark on it. It was there forever, and he had nothing to do but to accept it. He closed his eyes as he remembered Hermione-he loved her.

He did. Those dreams were real to him. He was there.

She had been with him through his childhood. After people had found him alone on his crib the next day, he was taken to the Weasleys immediately, where he met Hermione-a daughter of some of the close friends of Molly and Arthur Weasley.

He remembered the first time he had laid eyes on her. Her brown, curly hair that cascaded down her shoulders was tied up in a red bow. She was wearing a red frilly dress with small, pearl earrings to match. They had immediately become friends that day, swearing that they would never part.

Until then did Molly Weasley find out about his true identity and had thrown him away at 16. The Grangers were shocked and had forbid Hermione to see him ever again. Ronald Weasley, who was Harry's other best friend then, had detested upon this and had fled with him as well.

Harry looked up from his hands and saw Ron holding another cup of coffee. His hair was disheveled and his freckles were clearly shown. He was wrapped in his robes and was wearing his signature slippers.

"Am I safe now? The sunrise was finished an hour ago." He teased as he sat beside him. Harry had wondered though, as to why Ron had to even side with him that day. He could've had a better life than this.

"Yes.." He said, slowly looking to the ground. Ron knew exactly why, and yet he need not ponder on it now. He just might make the situation worse.

"How was she?" He asked.

"Entrancing." He stated simply.

"How many today...?"

"One." Harry said with so much regret. It had dawned on him that if he couldn't muster the will to take her life away, he would stay like this forever. Young, evil and hopeless--his mother wished the exact opposite. How he considered himself as his own adversary-he loathed himself to his very core. Stentorophonic voices in his mind badgered him with multiple, logical questions which he ironically couldn't answer. He tried to decipher the whole meaning of his life-why was he doing this? Why were they doing this? As subfusc as the issue may be, he still wonders on as to why he still exists here on earth. He was fine before, that was then when he was eternally desiccated when night struck. He considered himself a chance-child by night--a sick, deluded maniac.

"Do you love her?" Ron had interrupted his heated argument in his mind.

"...just enough to kill her." Harry had confessed. Ron sighed, looking into his cup. He loved her more than he had known he would. Harry was busy ridiculing himself for having such an intense passion for her, to the point in where he would have to kill her for his own sake.

He had wanted to be free from this curse-and yet, at the same time, have her as his own to keep. Not to enslave her to do all chores for him- but for them to have a passionate relationship--day and night. To have him wake up in the morning and see her face illuminated by the sunlight. To have her wrap her arms around his neck as they indulge in each other's kisses. To have himself beside her and lovingly comforting her as she bears their child.

Harry punched onto the couch as he imagined all those things, having known that they were impossible-a disillusional fantasy. Ron had sat beside him, sipping through his mug of coffee.

"Isn't there any other way?" He asked almost inaudibly.

"Ask 'the god of the night'. Damn Marvolo Riddle and his useless rituals!" Harry had flamed. He had mocked the leader of all his kind. He dared to. He wouldn't know, anyway.

"Don't go blaming that git, mate. You have to get yourself out of this. Have faith."

"I had faith, Ron. It all withered out. I think it would be best if I just stay like this forever. I would risk it all."

"But don't you want to be free from this?"

"Of course I do, Ron! I DO!" Harry had shouted, having his voice echo through the walls of their flat. Ron was looking at him in apology, having known that he had befuddled him once again.

"...It's just...I love her so much that I would risk my own happiness for her." The sunlight beamed through the windows, and Harry was now crying-mourning for his own life. Ron patted Harry at the back, scared though that he might burst again.

"People have betrayed me and left me to rot because of who I am."

"No they didn't."

"Your mother did. Mr. and Mrs. Granger did." Harry had cleared. Ron looked down, filled with so much hate for his mother. How could she abandon him like that? How could she abandon her own adopted son?

"Look...go to bed and get some rest." Ron had said.

"I don't want to."

"I want you to."

"And who made you boss, Ron? Sleeping would only lead to my misery--to my fear of seeing her once more. It appears to me that you love seeing me in agony, Ron. Good bye." As the door slammed shut, Ron had ran a hand through his hair and sighed. He was used to this.

He walked into the bathroom, only giving a sigh of disappointment. Fur was scattered all over the sink, all coated with blood.

"You promised, Harry. You promised that you wouldn't put Crookshanks into this." Ron had whispered as he stepped out and shut the lights off-leaving the bathroom to bathe in darkness.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Morning shone brighter than Harry had expected-he absolutely loved mornings. It was the only time of day where he could rest and feel secured about himself. Although, this morning just wasnt the day he wanted it to be. Clutching the pocket knife, he slowly made a cut just by his wrist. Blood trickled down from it, having him groan in pain. He leaned over to the cold, mossy wall of the dark alley. How he loathed blood-it was the one thing that represented life. He had life; An unending one, to that--that was his point. He had a life that would never end, even if he wanted it to. The blood had already camouflaged with his skin, and his energy was once again restored.

"Bloody Brilliant." He muttered. He shut his eyes closed, feeling the gush of wind flow through him. He looked to his right, finding her walking through the streets with a cellphone in her hands.

A typical day for her.

For him, as well.

He stays at that same spot, at the same time-gushing himself each and every day, then looking to his right and marveling at the woman that caused him so much pain. As he said earlier, today wasnt the day he wanted it to be. He was going to change this routine-he was determined. He walked slowly out the darkness and into the scorching heat. He was thankful that he wasnt the type of vampire that whithered under the sun--not like his father...Harry was indeed thankful for this. As he continued to stare up the sky, he actually felt a seeping feeling of relief. He wished things were this simple for him-but it just wasnt. With a small bump, he fell onto the floor and looked up at a very apologetic face.

Immortality had nothing to do with fate--he knew.

He had seen her face go pale as they made eye contact; Her hands were shaking as they rested on his chest. He could hear her heartbeat slowly growing faster and faster. Her eyes started to fill with glistened tears, and her lips started to tremble. Harry could feel her breath on his neck, which sent tempting shivers down his spine.

"That was a rough fall, wasnt it miss?" He said casually, slowly forming a smile on his face. He couldnt actually call out to her, knowing that if she remembered him from their past, everything would just turn into an emotional rumble. Hermione stared at him for a while, on the verge of a complete burst of emotions. Her subconscious mind was starting to take over her. Those flashing images of him-she couldnt help but feel the strong discomfort when she stares into the supposed stranger looking up at her.

"Yes...I suppose so." She said in an audible whisper, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He seemed vaguely familiar to her-aside from the dream, he seemed as though she had already met him. The discomfort had withered, and all she felt was relaxation and a tint of realization--the latter one, she didnt know specifically what it was. She could hear the people walk away, and some grumbling on that being such a waste of their time.

"I guess it would be best if we stand up now, miss."

Stupidity. Utter stupidity.

Harry thought, knowing that the compromising position he was in right now was just the delight he'd been wanting and craving for so long. Hermione, with a slight mysterious hesitation, stood up-and Harry followed suit.

"Im deeply sorry. I-wasnt really paying attention to--"

"No worries, miss. I understand." He replied, giving her a smile and placing both his hands into his pockets. Hermione, without a second thought, approached him and whispered lightly into his ear, her eyes in so much delusion.

"Is it really you?" she asked. Harry tried to keep his composure, and just turned his head slightly to her ear and replied, her hair touching the side of his cheek. With a small breath, he answered.

"Clearly miss, I have no exact clue on what you're talking about-especially on the mere fact that we are whispering for no exact reason."

"Then, im sorry to have bothered you sir." She said, briskly walking past him, and wiping the lone tear that had sweetly escaped from her pupils to her cheeks. Something about him was different, she thought. He seemed kinder, and not much of the masochistic maniac he portrayed himself to her. She pondered- she repeated it to herself over and over again. _'He looks so...familiar.'_ Dismissing the thought, she came onto the conclusion that he was just another acquaintance. A person that, one day, she would meet again. It was entirely impossible to her that he was who she thought he was--he was merely a product of her own imagination.

She was not the kind of person that mixed her own dystopia with reality.

As she turned onto the corner of Venus and Grand avenue, she felt a stirring voice from afar, apparently calling onto her. Looking back, she looked onto that acquaintance-one that was smiling so genuinely at her, with his hair ruffled and tousled and his glasses askew.

"Miss, im so sorry...I didnt get your name." He said, biting the near end of his bottom lip. Hermione tried to stay calm, clutching onto her bag tightly. As her chest throbbed in such an obtrusive way, she smiled back and tossed her hair to the side-a rare act for someone such as her.

"Would it be a deal if I get your name first?" She asked, stuttering at some words. Her own head was her adversary right now-that one tint that was shouting for her to discontinue her intentions. Yet, she could not resist the red tint forming on his cheeks. Having his hand run through his mop of ebony hair, a mark caught her eye, just placed by his wrist. She knew deep inside of her that she has seen that mark before-but she wondered on as to who it came from.

"Im Harry." He said in such a shy manner. Her heart suddenly stopped--'Harry?' she had then realized that he had the same name as of the one in her dream, and possibly someone else- She tried to let the thought pass, having known that she was just imagining things. She held out her hand, Harry following suit, and finally--that twinge of delight as 2 of different flesh touched. Harry resisted the urge to pull her close to him and have her breath down his neck.

"Now, you'd have to fulfill your side of the deal, Miss..."

"Hermione." She said, gently letting go of her hand from his. That tint of disappointment surged through her, and she pondered why. He was now looking down at his feet and grinning. 'Sexual Tension...' he thought. He found it quite amusing that he was making the most of a very bad situation. His time was running out--he needed her badly. Coming into conclusion, he finally broke that seeping, awkward silence between them.

"Look Hermione, I know we just met and everything, but I was just wondering if you'd like to take a walk with me?" Hermione glanced down at the floor, having crimson tints rush through her cheeks. Harry found it quite adorable, still fidgeting over the hem of his coat.

"That would be nice, I guess." She smiled, walking beside him. Harry smiled back, having her arm wrap around his as they walked through the sea of people and into the effervescent park by the end of the winding road. Seemingly, both had forgotten about their worries-they continued on, leaving behind the others to bathe in the wetness of the rain. Hermione's mind was finally cleared, and Harry's thoughts on death seemed to migrate away from him.

Little did they know that someone was following them.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoOoOoO

**A/N: I FINALLY GRADUATED! w00t! FRESHMAN YEAR, HS! Sorry-just too happy. Would it be rude of me to ask for a review...? Well, okay then. Please review if you feel like it. Just tell me how it is, for I am very conscious about my fanfics right now. THANKS!**

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-TheFunkyDurian**

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	3. The Black Carpet:Inconspicuous Stalker

**TWO**

"You are such a prat." Hermione stated with such amusement, sitting on the bench beside Harry. He was facing her with a grin, running a hand through his hair a couple of times. He seemed so familiar to her, and yet she couldnt get her tongue on who he really was to her. It had been 3 hours since he invited her for a walk. Being the conversationalist she was, she had surely achieved to amusingly bore him for the last half-an-hour. Harry confessed this frankly, only having him receive ice cream smudged over his face. He, in turn, got his revenge.

Now, bathed in sticky cream and laughing hysterically, both were now wiping themselves- still amused by their frivolous tomfoolery. Harry glanced at her as glazes of sunlight illuminated her hair, having it shine a light shade of bronze. He surely felt his heart tremble and palpitate for a mere second.

"Well, enough of this--this stuff." She laughed.

"We havent really got acquainted with each other due to the fact that we were pre-occupied in dominating each other by soaking ourselves senseless." Harry stated. Hermione laughed once more, discarding her handkerchief soaked with left over ice cream.

"True." She simply said, gazing back at him. She stared inquisitively at every inch of his features, trying to decipher who he really was to her. She was definitely sure she had seen him somewhere, besides those fictional dreams she had. Harry, noticing the attention, quirked an eyebrow.

"What is it Hermione?" He asked.

"O-oh, sorry. It's just...you remind me of someone I knew from before." Harry tried to hide every inch of clues he could give out. He could not let her know that he was the Harry she knew before-that demented outcast she befriended.

"That's odd. I feel the same way too." He replied.

"--Uhm...I meant the whole look-a-like thing." He quickly corrected himself. Hermione smiled back, finding red tints forming on her cheeks. She felt lame, asking herself that same superficial question she hears on every chick-flick she has ever watched: _'What is this feeling?' _a secret smile etched on her face. He glanced back at her beneath his lashes, which made her hyperventilate. He looked pale though-there's always that mysterious glint in his eyes, and that penetrating stare he has been giving her since this morning.

Harry glanced back at her, seeing those faint eyebags below her eyes. He had caused them, after all. That miniscule amount of guilt seeped through him once more, seeing how miserable she has been for the past week-having him haunt her every night unintentionally. How could one so innocent suffer so much? It didnt seem right. He stared at her, seemingly lost in those pools of deep cinnamon and the flowing waves of auburn that flowed through her shoulders.

"Well--this has been one very splendid day, Harry." She grinned back at him. Harry felt his head twirl in sheer delight. That smile of hers seems to just manipulate him, and push him until he reached the verge of an explosive confession. She seemed so innocent, and he felt as though he were depriving her of a wonderful life.

"It has, Hermione. I'm quite glad that you were the clumsy person you were moments ago." Harry said in between chuckles, having earned a playful slap in the arm. Their amusement was the only thing they had that could hide that burning sensation under their cheeks, and that seeping feeling of-_realization?, _they asked themselves. Now bathing in awkward silence, Harry couldnt help but ponder on the revelation that is swelling up inside of him. Could he actually tell her about their past? Would she accept him once more and take him in, or treat him as an outsider and forget him?

He then regretted vowing to himself that this day was going to be a day of difference...no, he swore to himself. He would not tell her--not until the time was right.

He glanced at her once more adoringly, wondering if his sweet fantasies would actually come true. His deep urges to be with her, living normally. Only then did a mist catch his attention, far beyond the depths of the trees. His eyes turned from sadness to curiosity, and protectiveness. Looking further, his mind pulled an alarm, seeing the mist evolve from an orb, onto a man--a man he loathed and hated with every gut in his body.

His dead father.

As he looked in disbelief and anger, his eyes widened in shock as a knife, with the vampire's seal encrusted upon it, was thrown quickly onto Hermione's direction. "Hermione, watch out!", He screamed in desperation. Taking action, he pulled her out of the way, having him stabbed directly in the heart. Hermione's face went pale, seeing that no trace of blood trickled from Harry's chest. Her heart was pounding beneath her chest as she lay helpless on the grass, staring at Harry with wide eyes. With a sharp turn of his head, he glanced back at the trees finding his father approaching them, with eyes of maroon that twinkled in the sunlight.

This was impossible.

With a swift movement, he grabbed Hermione's hand and ran quickly through the streets-her replying in protest. Hermione tried to catch up-panting heavily behind Harry. Beads of sweat trickled from both their foreheads, twinkling as it reached the asphalt ground. Harry glanced back, seeing his dad catching up to them. Hermione continued panting, clutching onto Harry's hand tight.

"What the bloody-Harry!" She tried to catch up.

"Hold on, Hermione. Dont look back! Whatever you do, do not look into his eyes!" He called out to her as they turned a corner. Hermione started to weaken, having her hair fly out behind her as she started to cry.

"Harry, what's happening?" She exclaimed. Turning another corner, they hid behind a wall in a deserted alleyway. Hermione leaned against his chest, sobbing uncontrollably. Harry felt her hot tears stain his black coat, having his arms wrap around her in comfort.

"What's happening, Harry? Im scared!" She muttered. Harry looked around, seeing that his father is still on the way. Harry gently pulled her away from his chest and looked into her eyes. He seeped into her, trying to get that slight memory to recover in her mind. Hermione seemed lost inside his emerald eyes, finding that small hint of desperation in them. Harry gave up. He just had to tell her-to remind her.

"Hermione--do you remember me?" He said in a low voice, which made a shocking wave of tingles creep through her spine. Hermione gazed up at him, eyes wide in shock. She had wished to forget. She tried. All those memories had sadly resurfaced.

_"No! You cant do this to him! No!" She said, hugging onto him tightly. He sadly hugged back, having his luggage fall from his hands. She poured her whole emotions to him. They couldnt possibly do that to him. He was her best friend. She couldnt care less on what he was._

_Her parents slowly pulled her away from him, having her 16 year old body kneel down in hysterical sobs. She looked up from her wet palms, finding tears falling from his own, mournful emerald eyes. Mr. Granger pointed his finger firmly to the door, which he nodded to with humility. With one click of the door, he was out. Hermione was now in hysterical fits, only to be calmed by her mother._

_"Stop this, Hermione! Stop this!" She said. Hermione stood up defiantly, and walked to the door. She was forcefully turned by her father, who slapped her on the cheek. Hermione gasped, having a hand run through the forming laceration. With one glare towards her parents, she ran out of the door and through the meadows panting for breath and catching up to him, who was now by the very end._

_"No! Harry, stay!" She screamed, running up behind him amidst the scolds from her mother and father from afar. As she said, she didnt care. He stopped abruptly, his head down in remorse. She hugged him softly on the back as she cried softly, feeling his own body quiver in between sobs. _

_"Harry-I couldnt care less on what you are." She whispered softly. She heard him choke back a sob, seeing tears falling on the dewy grass below._

_"I cant stay, Hermione. It would only hurt you more." He said in a low whisper, trying to mask the numerous amount of sadness he had. Hermione's tears fell freely on her cheeks as she turned him around to face her. In an instant, she looked into his eyes and smiled, wiping off the tears trickling down his cheeks. She lifted his chin to face her, having him show so much emotion. It broke every piece of her heart to see him like that. _

_"Listen to me." She said with such urgency. He seemed so vulnerable at this point, and it left her in sheer sadness. "You dont have to listen to them!"_

_"But that would be putting your life at risk, Hermione!" He exclaimed. She shook her head, seemingly aggravated at his stubbornness. _

_"No, Harry! You're not!"_

_"Im dangerous, Hermione! I dont want to put your life at risk!"_

_"What if I was willing to risk it just for you to stay with me?" She retorted. They were inches apart, and the tension grew thicker as it circulated in the air. _

_"Dont be stupid, Hermione." Taken aback by the sudden force in his voice, she stared at him in disbelief. The anger ebbed away, and all that was left was sadness. Utter sadness._

_"How could you say that, when im here defending you?" She whispered with so much hurt. He felt that seeping feeling of guilt rush through him once again, and all he wanted was for her to smile again._

_"Hermione, I didnt mean what I-"_

_"Shut up, Harry." Silence. Minutes passed, which seemed like hours to them. Emotion just seemed to deceive her--she finally broke down and gave in._

_"No matter what happens, Im always here protect you and to guide you-whether you're right or wrong." She whispered to him. He was now crying, releasing tears of anguish and sorrow. She started to cry again as well, having her eyes go swollen._

_"It pains me to see you like this, Hermione--all because of me." He confessed with such pain that it nearly tore Hermione's heart to pieces. She faced her head down, only to be lifted again by the gentle touch of his hands on her cheek._

_"Every smile you make, makes my eyes brim with tears. Every touch you give me makes my heart overwhelm with ecstasy. Every hint of sadness in your eyes makes my heart shatter--" she was now biting her lip as she tried her best to hold back the tears that have been urging to fall through her cheeks. She gazed into his eyes, which were filled with so much sincerity._

_"--you're my whole life, Hermione." Those words rang in her ears as it seeped all the way into her heart. She had tried to control it, but her tears rebelled against it. She leaned into his chest and cried, having him hug her back with so much intensity. _

_"As I depart, I would always be there watching over you in the darkness. Remember that." He whispered into her ear. Wind blew past them, leaves rustled in the silence. Her continuous sobs still echoed through the meadows. She couldnt take the tension much longer._

_"Harry, I love you." She whispered in desperation. She clung onto him tightly, wishing to never let go. He leaned his head on her shoulder for one last time and muttered something she had been longing to hear for so long._

_"I always have, Hermione." With that, he let go and drifted onto the woods where Ronald had told him to meet up. He looked back at a forlorn young lady, on her knees and sobbing, before finally vanishing from sight._

Hermione gasped, both her hands over her mouth in utter awe. He looked back at her, eyes in such a state of confusion-whether or not to hide or to accept. Hermione took a few steps closer and ran a hand through his cheek, staring deeply into his eyes...just like before.

"You-you came back." She said, her voice trailing off. He smiled weakly, intertwining his hand in hers and brining it up to his heart. Hermione could feel the soft vibrating sounds of his heart-one that never ended and one that never died. Only then did it dawn on her that he was special-especially to her. She tried to search her heart for that feeling she had felt years ago--looking through those sparkling spectacles of his, she finally felt it. It had resurfaced, just as her memories.

And she still felt the hurt.

"I made a promise. Im only here to fulfill it." he said, looking down once more. That awkward silence had appeared once more, and they were left staring at each other. How could they have parted for so long?

A interruption caught their attention.

Both sharply turned their heads up, finding a man so hideous that Hermione screamed. Eyes of deep red were staring intently at them, and Hermione felt weaker and weaker by the second. Harry quickly looked down, grabbing Hermione's hand as they continued to run once more.

There was an uncomfortable tension in the air, and the twilight had passed-leaving them with a night sky above. The air seemed to be colder than Hermione knew, which made her shift uncomfortably under her coat as she continued to run behind Harry. She could sense Harry shiver as well-putting his hand in hers, even as Harry turned back in surprise, they continued to run side by side through the dark, deserted road.

Through a crevice, both crept through, panting and gasping for breath. Harry looked back, finding that satanic image of his father pacing after them with an evil grin plastered on his face. Harry jumped through logs and mounts of cement, as Hermione did as well.

"Harry! This way!" She yelled out, turning to the dark alley. Harry followed behind her as she climbed through the metal bars and sprung herself over. Harry followed suit, and was nearly an inch there-before he was caught and levitated in mid air. He heard Hermione scream insults as the ghostly image of his father continued to laugh with an evil snare. Albeit the extreme difficulty, Harry managed to have protruded his wings out as he flew into the sky with one swift motion. His wings were bathed in red, but as it dried--were bathed in pitch black flesh with faded veins on each end. Hermione watched this happen, having seen the blood quickly dry away from his back. This was her first encounter with the different Harry that was introduced to her--her first witness to what he truly was.

Soaring up into the night sky, followed by a demented madman he soared higher and higher until they both reached the top and faced each other in duel. The day had fallen so quickly, and the moon glowed with such glum, and no star was in sight. The full moon seemed to seethe as the hero and the adversary circled each other.

The time of the fangs had finally come, and Harry felt his upper jaw clench.

"Father, i've finally met you." He said with such loathing.

"I am not who you think I am, Harry. Im much more dominant than your useless father, mind you. If I were you, I would show some respect." He said, lifting his hands forward, having Harry twitch in excruciating pain. All he heard was a cold laugh through the sounds of his own screams. Thousands of feet below, Hermione watched in horror as she watched the miniscule silhouette of Harry suffer.

"What are you doing with my father's body? _Ab initio!_" Harry cried out, having his body surge with energy once more. He then turned his head back to his opponent with much more confidence than he had moments ago, and fired out another set of spells to seize him. The figure, in reply, dodged every single curse with pride.

"Go on Harry. Make my day."

"Im just starting. _Fiat lux_!" Harry screamed into the night once more, but nothing seemed to happen. The glow from his hands had faded, and the enemy before him was smirking evilly. With a sneer, he spoke.

"Light does not scare me, Harry. Im much more powerful than that." He laughed with mocked suffering. Harry struggled in the air, glancing momentarily down below-observing the small movements of the silhouette below. "What do you want from me?" Harry glared back at his adversary with so much hate.

"Simple--her." Harry could feel his blood boil beneath his skin as he noticed the movement of his opponent's eyes go down, to that small silhouette of a woman at the bottom.

"Lay off her, or you would suffer!" He was only replied upon a cold laugh of mockery.

"Ha! If there's one thing I tell you boy, is to never let Marvolo Riddle suffer. There would be dire consequences. _Finis!" _Even before it dawned on Harry who he was facing, the monstrous beast was gone. That horrifying thought left him speechless as he hovered in the air. He had not, in his wildest imaginations, thought that he would land on the day that would give him the opportunity to finally face the leader of all their kind.

That threat he had mentioned to him still lingered onto his mind.

All he had left to do was dive down, southward, back to an overwhelmed Hermione Granger. He felt that pull of gravity start to weigh on him, and a smile etched on his face as he saw Hermione look up on him expectantly. That smile was the only thing that could mask the utter worry boiling inside of him. He knew how powerful the master was, and he dared not to put Hermione in harm's way.

Touching the ground roughly, with one knee bent onto the asphalt floor, he looked at Hermione who was kneeling beside him in worry and anguish. She seemed just as speechless as he was.

"What the bloody hell was that, Harry?" She asked with much force, having found her voice. Harry still had clammy moist on his forehead, and his breathing sharpened. He turned his head abruptly towards Hermione's direction, trying to hide that tint of worry. Hermione noticed the fangs that were now visible, and seemingly found her fingers gently tracing through his refined cheekbone.

"How long is this going to last, Harry?" She asked. Harry found no words, seemingly lost in the small touch that crept through his skin.

"I have been living through this all my life-im used to it." He said plainly. Remembering the events earlier, he remembered that small encounter between her and Marvolo, which brought fourth a state of panic inside of him.

"Did you look at him in the eyes?" He asked her with that familiar sense of urgency. She nodded immediately, only to have him hold her by her arms and shake her with panicked force.

"Why? That is the worse thing you could do! I warned you not to! Looking into the eyes of a vampire could lead you into a state of fatality! It hypnotizes you--it manipulates you--it kills you, Hermione! I told you not to look!" His urgent cries turned into panicked screams. Hermione stared at him, her eyes brimming with tears as she was shook simultaneously.

"What difference does that make with you!" She retorted. The shaking had stopped as Harry stared back at her, confused.

"Harry, tell me what's happening!"

"I dont want you to get involved in this!"

"Why not?"

"Because I could be dangerous! I could be a threat to you!"

"Im still your friend, Harry!"

"It's been years Hermione!" Harry finally said, seething. He was glowering at her, breathing heavily as her words scrambled in his head.

"And you've abandoned it just like that? Is that how low you think of the 16 years of friendship we shared before?" She was now on her feet, her face showing pure anger--but her eyes showing pain and desperation. Harry stood up as well and stared back at her, breathing heavily and trying to control every bit of emotion in him.

"N-No! I treasured our friendship, even after my departure! I was so forlorn that I even haunted you as you slept, trying to resurface that past--the past that you intentionally and forcefully forgot--until now!" Harry was still seething, and looking down at her face which was spilling out tears of anger.

"I wanted to stop myself from crying every night, Harry! I wanted to start a new life without you!"

"You just wanted to forget me that easily?"

"I wanted to keep myself from getting hurt again from every single bit of memory I had left of you!" Hermione wiped off tears forcibly as she stared back at him, before departing from his sight. He stared at her retreating figure, her head down on the floor as she released a set of muffled sobs. The dark alleyway seemed to close in on him, and claustrophobia seemed to creep through him.

_Guilt._

XxXxXxXxXxXxxxxXXxXx

**A/N: I could definitely say that I enjoyed writing this. I needed some getting used to with the latin spells though. As you can see, the fic moves through a fast pace, even regarding the battles and the reunions. There's a meaning behind this-so, please be patient for the next chapters. _tell me what you think!_**


	4. The Black Carpet: Alone

**THREE **

Thunder clashed loudly out the window, and the trees scratched its way through the windows of Hermione. She felt so vulnerable and lonely, sitting on her bed with a pillow clutched tightly in her arms. The tears have dried up, and she regretted ever leaving him. She had thought of the chances of ever seeing him again, and losing him forever.

She lost him once. She promised herself that she would not lose him again.

She bathed in silence, missing her beloved feline friend. She was alone, and horrified. The slightest of sounds made her jump in fear, and cower behind the safety of her own warmth, under the confines of her silky sheets. Dried tears were etched on her face as she started to rock back and forth.

_my fault. all my fault. _

A hoot from an owl made her jump, and finally, she broke down onto the floor. Moist tears started to fall, pounding her feet onto the wall-to-wall carpet. She was scared; Her heart was racing in fright, and guilt. She shook in raked sobs, hugging her pillow and finding what's left of the comfort she had. Her cheeks flushed, leaning against the wall and looking up at the ceiling. The power was out, and all she could see was darkness. That slight buzzing sound rang in her ears, and it terrified her.

"Crookshanks..." She sobbed. She was scared, and she wished for company rather than a damp pillow. The wind blew the windows open, making Hermione scream once again. She looked around her, for the windows mysteriously shut back. She cowered by the corner of the room, pulling the sheets from the bed and wrapping it around her. Her throat seemed to be giving in on her, and she found no sound as she let out a horrible scream.

"Hermione, dont be afraid." Her eyes widened as the knowing figure of her best friend appeared from the dark depths of her room, and all she felt now was the wrenching pain and guilt in her heart for leaving him moments ago. She saw his eyes twinkle amidst the darkened atmosphere, and a mere shed of moon light was all it took to illuminate one part of his face. Amidst his severe state, Hermione felt pity.

"Just stay back, Harry. Just dont come any closer." Past images flashed through her mind, and she knew what venom her words brought towards him. He furrowed his eye brows in confusion, but remained still. It was then that the moon shone its utter brightness, that she saw him completely. Gashes all over his body, bruised palms and wrists, tousled black hair; The most gruesome sight she has ever seen.

Harry was in a severely horrible vampire state, and it broke her heart.

Blood trickled from his forehead, down to the side of his neck. He was pale, and the only color left on him was the dried stains of blood randomly patched around his body. A mark glowed on his wrist as he clenched his fists tight. Hermione was left bewildered and frightened. She had never expected it to be this bad--he looked utterly different than the person she had seen in the alley fight hours ago.

"Why do you put the weight of so much agony on me, Hermione?" He asked, being cautious on taking small steps towards her. She wasnt frightened any longer, nor was she surprised to see him in her room. She just felt despair and pain on seeing him like this.

"I didnt mean to, Harry. Although, you must understand me as well." She slowly stood up, leaving the forgotten source of comfort, the pillow, on the floor. Harry paced back, surprised by the sudden movement of the girl that was once still and frightened of him.

"You must understand that I, too, get frightened sometimes. I, too, get scared of things." She paced near him, and he kept still. She felt her heart beat by her chest, and she felt her knees shake in anxiety. He was looking down, onto her carpeted floors as a bloody gash appeared into the light. Hermione felt that twinge of pity as she lifted his chin up gently, with utter care, as his dark ominous eyes looked back at her.

"Look at you, Harry." She whispered as a single tear dropped onto his cheeks. His face still mocked such evil intentions, but she saw struggle in his eyes. That small twinkle of hope rose inside of her.

"Im dangerous, Hermione. Especially now." She saw his knuckles turn paler than they already were, but she didnt dare step back. She wasnt afraid. She wasnt mortified. She was sorry.

_Sorry for all the agony he was put through by everyone._

"I wouldnt give a damn if you're dangerous, Harry." Her voice was filled with conviction, and she found him turning his head back onto the ground. She clutched onto his cheek, cupping it again as he faced her under his forlorn lashes. Her heart softened by the very thought of his utter sadness.

"Just leave me, Hermione."

"Dont be stupid!" She had managed to shout. His face seemed darker, yet still his eyes said otherwise. Hermione clutched his hand into hers as she squeezed it reassuringly. "Dont ever think I'll abandon you, Harry Potter. I would never do that."

He heard her hold back a sob, yet she remained still as she clutched onto his hand tighter.

"I made a promise to you years and years back. Im not about to break it, Harry." He retrieved his hand from hers, squeezing his knuckled tight as he looked at her. She seemed determined not to let him go, and all he really had to do was warn her about what he was about to do. If he did, just maybe, she might avoid him and leave him to rot in his own misery. He couldnt risk her life just for his happiness.

His vision blurred as brown curls covered his face. He felt that tight force clinging onto him, and he smelled temptation. She hugged him tight, having her neck rest just inches from his mouth. That twinge of evil rushed through him as he inhaled the sweet scent running inside her. He felt his eyes darken as he imagined her cold, fragrant blood, that same blood that ran through her body. He wasnt listening to the comforting words that rang in his ears, but rather busy from resisting the temptation to bury his face beneath her neck and run his hands on the smooth surface of her skin. He sucked in one breath and held it in, looking elsewhere as she hugged him tighter.

"Hermione, stop this. It isnt safe." He scowled behind her as she reluctantly let go. She seemed hurt and rejected, yet she kept her composure and faced him. His scowl stayed, just long enough for her to see. She returned the same thing, with as much coldness as he delivered.

"Could you stop being such a _bloody_ _bastard_ and accept me once more as a friend! Im trying to help you Harry!"

"Well, help me by staying away! Im trying to protect you!" he could see Hermione seething, taking dangerous steps towards him. The emptiness inside of him was dull, and that certain longing made his depression sink. The feeling of nothingness was terrible.

"Protect me? From what? Harry, Im tired of us arguing like this!"

"Well, just stop running after me then! Im a vampire, Hermione! I dont need another friend as an extra burden in my life!" The sudden sharpness by his cheek made him gasp, dry tears falling from his darkened eyes. His face remained blank, yet he felt Hermione's anger run deep in his non-existent veins. She was a mere step away from him, her chest heaving dangerously. The lonesome tears that streamed down her face fell quickly onto the black carpet, making it grow dark. Her hand cupped Harry's face violently as she closed the gap between them, peering angrily into his eyes. He then saw what he had been fearing for all this time.

_Hatred._

"If you think that I will stand anymore of this, then you are mistaken! Im so sick of this! I hate this, Harry!" She was now looking in desperation, feeling his cold breath brush against her lips. Her eyes were pure and sincere, so as the tears of divided anger and pain. Harry was staring back at her in a scowl, yet again, his eyes said otherwise. With one more dangerous step towards him that he could feel her thighs brush against his, she clutched tightly onto his shirt, pulling him so close that the sweet scent emanating from her made Harry's blood boil in temptation. "Im so sick of being hurt by you."

Her scent was driving him mad that his knuckles started to clench. He prayed for dear life for her to back away, for his eyes started to darken in hunger and even possibly, _lust_. Her face remained the same, yet her eyes started to fill with gentleness as she ran a gentle hand through his cheek, tracing the vanishing red mark that caused him so much pain. "Look at what you're letting me do to you. I dont like hurting you as well, Harry! For gods sake, you force me to!"

Then, Harry felt it.

That sense of abandonment that will haunt him forever. Hermione gave her last sigh as she stepped back, wiping the remains of the crestfallen tears on her face. Her eyes started to droop, and Harry could tell that she was tired, both physically and emotionally.

All because of his stupidity.

"Im so tired, Harry…" Her voice trailed off. "If this is the way you want it, then…I'll gladly accept it…even if it hurts…this much." Her eyes were starting to close just as she turned her back on him, but Harry refused to give up. He grabbed her hand and twirled her to face him so quickly that she now nestled inside his arms, her chest against his. The soft gasp that escaped from her lips made his blood boil hotter, and Harry couldn't help but notice the dangerous closeness he was in. The hot breath that brushed through his neck made his grip on her tighter, making her press against him so hard that she, herself, ached.

"The day you took my hand and took a walk with me on the grounds of this forsaken earth was the day I put your life in danger."

He felt it. The small beating of her heart made his empty chest ache. The small vibrations made him long for it so badly that it ached him. Hermione found her eyes starting to close as she nestled her head on his chest. She gasped, hearing nothing but the hollow sound of bones and muscles.

He had no heart.

He had it once…but lost it.

Absolutely none that pumped and ached and shuddered.

"Oh Harry…" A single tear, and maybe the very last, sped through her cheeks as she closed her eyes completely, her head pressed firmly on his chest, and her body closely against him. She ran one hand against his chest before completely retreating to sleep.

Harry just hoped that she wouldn't hate him in the morning.

OoOoOoOoOoOOoOoOoOoOOo

The vibrant sun insulted a very lonesome day. The heat reflected through the windows, sending its beams to cross Hermione's face as she slept beneath the murky sheets. She smelled the scent of the familiar musky cologne—the same scent she smelled last night. Moaning, she sat up straight, her eyes blinking irritably. It was a black room adorned with nothing but a single, intricately designed closet that seemed to camouflage with the wall. A single window rested beside the bed, along with a small chair that lay just by it. It was clean, yes, but too minimal.

This was definitely not her room.

It wasn't panic that surged through her when she reached the pique of realization, but fear. She looked under her sheets, finding herself fully clothed. A sigh of relief escaped her lips as she rested herself onto the pillows. She was surprisingly dizzy from the strong male aroma that circulated around the room, making her feel so hot that it boiled beneath her skin.

"Harry…?" She whispered. There was absolutely no answer.

"Harry…is that you?" She whispered again.

Silence.

It was thick as it hovered into the air, making Hermione fill with chills that shivered down her spine. It was awfully _too_ quiet. She reluctantly got up, swinging her feet onto the surprisingly chilled floor. The shock made her jump as she tried to walk through the room without flinching, wrapping her arms around her for heat. It was surprisingly very cold…all _too _cold_. A bit of everything is bad, isn't it?_ She thought to herself.

Running her hands through the cabinet found at the far end of the room, she found herself squinting at the Latin encryption just below.

_Sceleratus._

Hermione knew very well what it meant. The aching pain in her chest needed to stop.

"Cursed and Wicked." She whispered under her breath. She thought of the utter cruelty of such a word being encrypted in your own possession—The haunting, eerie feeling seeped through her as she stared at the carved designs on the wooden exterior. A wide range of bleeding roses weaved as an outline, wrapping it's thorns around a skull that seemed to suffocate.

"Harry…" She whispered, looking down the floor as she started to clutch her chest in pain. The very thought of him suffering haunted her, leaving her breathless. She found herself hyperventilating as the flashing images of death and pain started to fill her mind. The buzzing sound of silence was thick, and she found the room closing in on her slowly. The scent was increasing, leaving her blood boiling beneath her skin. Sweat dripped profusely down her head and onto the black carpet beneath her.

"Hermione?" Her neck looked sharply at the door, and she found herself abandoning her thoughts completely. Greeted with a mob of bushy hair, he smiled as he hugged her back tightly, laughing in the process.

"Ronald! Im so glad to see you!" She was ecstatic to see him. It has been 17 years since they've seen each other, and she missed him just as much as she missed Harry, or at least _used_ to. The red head let go softly, leading her to the couch by the living room. The soft dramatic closing of Harry's door sent an eerie feeling inside Hermione, making her uncomfortable as she sat down with her legs folded beneath her.

"It's hard to take in, isn't it?" Ron suddenly said, in the middle of sipping his morning coffee. Hermione looked up at him, smiling weakly. That small aching feeling in her heart still lingered, now irritating her.

"It never was hard, exactly. It's just surreal." She whispered, feeling Ron nod in agreement. She was still staring back at the black door she came through moments ago. It's knob was silver, engraved with the same rose design she saw minutes ago.

"Is it hard, Ronald?"

"What is?" He asked, looking up from his mug. She seemed uncomfortable and uneasy, yet she tried to keep her composure. It was hard talking about him, she had to confess. It was all to hurtful for her, having known that they shared a past together. Those haunting images of him in her mind seemed to just confuse her…and even hurt her.

"Living with him and seeing him suffer with every last breath in his body? Seeing that forlorn face each day, which just awaits his transfiguration at night?" Her gaze was somewhat far away, making Ron abandon his cup completely.

"It's very hard, Hermione. It's hard to see a best friend suffer like that. But I've learned to cope with it. All the blood and the killings…you couldn't restrain him. It's who he is." The silence was thick, and it made Hermione shiver. Something didn't feel right inside of her. That ominous feeling just seemed to flood her mind. Something has happened, and it made her scared.

"I get the feeling too." He suddenly said.

"What feeling?"

"The intense fear of something dangerous happening. I get it all the time. That's the thing, you see. That guy's a jinx. Get attached to him, and everything in your life's dangerous." He said with a small chuckle. Hermione replied in the same manner, yet her face still looked fearful. The feeling remained…continuing to haunt her…

"Hermione, don't worry. The guy's immortal for goodness sake! He'll live for the next thousand years." Her thoughts remained the same…

"Yeah. He will, but the victim wont." She looked down, ashamed of thinking badly of him. Although she had to look at the other's point of view-how did they really feel about him? Did they even know that things like him still existed? "I know it's shameful to think so badly of him, but I couldn't help but feel for the victims he's damaged badly."

Then the bubbling thoughts started to clear in her mind.

_She was scared of being a victim. A victim to everything he stands for._

His words started to refresh in her mind, and she felt a shiver run down her spine. The fear was so thick, that she felt herself shake. _Im dangerous, Hermione. Especially now_. Was he trying to kill her? Was he retraining himself? Hermione's eyes widened in fear as she gulped inaudibly. She couldn't possibly be scared of him. He's a friend she'd never feared in all her life. She made a promise to him about it.

"Hermione…you're not scared of Harry…are you?" Ron suddenly asked, noticing the familiar fearful expression he used to have years back. Hermione shook her head momentarily before staring back at him, a small smile fading in.

"Of course not." She stuttered. He knew well that she was lying, but he didn't want to make her think of anything else. "Of course not…" She repeated, although it sounded a line less of believable. Her smile was now fake, having her eyes brim with tears. _I couldn't possibly be…no…I cant be…_ The repetitive denial in her head made her dizzy. The images of Harry so rejected made her heart ache again that she wished for it just to be taken out.

Being scared of him would leave a laceration in him so deep, he would hate her.

"You know what? Lets just wait for him. He's probably just walking around cutting himself like the emotionally man that he is." He retreated into the kitchen, leaving Hermione staring down at herself.

_Those haunting images._

"Yeah...lets wait for him…"

_The deep lacerations._

"He'll be here any moment…"

_The fear._

She stood up quickly before she could imagine her dead body hanging loosely in his arms.

OoOoOoOoOoOOoOoOoOoOOo

His head was thumping wildly, and he felt himself struggle as he started to open his eyes. The image was a blur, and he couldn't help but moan in pain as his head continued to throb in pain. The setting looked deserted, with it's webbed walls and crevices and dead mice that lay dead on the floor. Cockroaches inhabited at least every corner of the space, and Harry felt himself grunt again. With a few more blinks of his eyes, the vision started to decipher, and he found himself gasping.

The shame started to creep through him again.

"_Damnit!"_

His fingers bore deep into a man's chest, as he could feel it pounding beneath. It pounded…and pounded…the blood squirting onto his fingers…before it stopped completely. The man's face was undecipherable, due to the wrinkles and the dried blood on his face. The howl of frustration escaping from his lips echoed through the facility, making him drop the body onto the floor. It crumpled quickly, even before he set down and knelt beside it. He looked lifeless and pale…and helpless.

"Im such an arse hole!"

It rang in his ears over and over again, haunting him.

_He was a murderer._

The man remained lifeless on the floor, making him cringe. He shifted the patch of gray hair on his face and stiffened. He felt so rigid, he couldn't move. He had gone too far this time…all too far. He couldn't have done. No. His head throbbed wildly once again—interrupting his thoughts, letting him shudder and cringe in pain.He found himself spitting the blood left in his mouth in disgust, seeing the bile rest idly onto the floor.

He was a monster.

Broken sobs escaped his lips as he stood up, staring at the lifeless body that lay shocked on the floor. His eyes were wide, and his mouth was open in fear. He wished he recalled that night…he wished he could've stopped what happened.

He wished.

And wished.

And wished.

But then again, _vampires don't get their wishes granted._

He found a knife laying still inches away from the old man's body, and he chose to cut himself. To cut himself so deep that he wished he could feel the pain. His neck started to bleed, and he chose the time to smother his hands in a pool of his own dark blood. His neck healed just as quickly, but the blood remained. Finding an empty patch on the wall, he wrote the only words that came onto his mind.

_Im sorry_

With one sharp swish of his black trench coat, he extended his wings and flew high up into the sky. Broken tears fell onto the ground and burned every single thing it came in contact with. He started to cry. He didn't mean to. He didn't want to.

But he had to.

He then found it. He felt his body shiver, but he continued on. Nestled deep in the dark forest was an abandoned church, rusting and decaying. He found refuge by the tower, where he lay beside a statue of a saint. It was looking through the sky hopefully, with a sword and a scroll in his hand.

"Im not welcome here." He whispered to himself. Then again, he found the sky brightening, and a ray of light hit him directly. That small tint of hope surged through him, and he knew that he was welcome. He wasn't shunned nor rejected. He was accepted. And he found himself smiling, amidst the supposed pain that the knife brought as it bore deeply into his left ribcage, supposedly piercing through his heart that had stopped beating since the day on his initiation.

He _thought _he was accepted.

The beams from the sun started to sting his skin, making him gasp in pain. His wings started to whither, and he found it bleeding behind him. He was given false hope, that was what it was. It was screeching, and he felt the blood literally boil beneath him. His skin was hot and burned, and he found himself screaming. The burning sensation of the sun made him gasp more, his wings starting to retract and his wounds starting to sting.

Amidst the hate the heavens sent down upon him, he still felt hope.

"I still believe! Do you hear me? I still believe in you!" He screamed into the heavens. It replied with darkened clouds and a graying sky, making him sigh as the burning sensation stopped. He was surprisingly tired, and chose to do nothing more but to retreat and lie down onto his bed, awaiting his next transfiguration. He felt his eye lids closing, and he felt the sharp wind on his face.

He was falling.

Falling forward.

Into nothingness.

The tower of the church now lay feet from the ground, which lay beneath Harry's throbbing back. The muddy water made him sigh, having his wounds sting even more. He wished it was all over. He wished for the body to be found and for it to rest.

In peace.

Not like him.

OoOoOoOoOoOOoOoOoOoOOo

Hermione was sitting on a battered wooden chair in the kitchen, munching on her cereal while waiting for Ron to get out of the shower. She cheerfully set the bowl back to the sink, deciding that she'd wash them later. She simply smiled.

they were reunited again.

The thoughts of Harry were gone. She forced them to. Every minute she spent with Ron should not be ruined by her mere accusations towards Harry. She knew that her imagination was wild, and those that she thought of were merely impossible. She peered out the curtain, watching the sun rise as it turned the sky an unbelievably beautiful shade of orange, outlining the damp leaves of the oak trees that were almost balding due to the start of fall.

This was the peace she'd been hoping for.

The peace she had always imagined. Her, under protective arms as they both lay cuddled on a bed, the bright Sunday morning ahead of them. Those were all hallucinations in her head, yet she still wished to think that they were real. It was hard, really. The small sensation in her heart made her miss him more. Each minute she stays alone is a minute of pain and suffering. She just wished for him to have a normal life.

With her.

The ringing of her cellphone ruined the moment. The scene had seemed so fragile and short that if she blinked even once, she would miss the beautiful scenery—proving that beautiful moments like these aren't meant to last. An eerie feeling shot through her as she saw her phone vibrate on the desk. Looking into the screen, she furrowed her eye brows, seeing the name of her mother. It wasn't likely for her to call, for it was mostly her father that was so curious on how she was.

_Hermione paced the sitting room nervously. The night had gone, and all their waiting came to a waist. The wind blew heavily through each crevice of the house, causing Hermione to clutch onto her jacket tightly. Thunder and lightning clashed loudly outside, making Ron laugh with each jump she took. The glint from her wrist caught her attention, and she smiled as she fiddled with the golden bracelet her father had given her on her 18th birthday, while holding a glass of red cranberry juice. She jumped at another flash of lightning, bracing herself for the thunder which followed shortly after that. The flat then rumbled slightly as her golden bracelet suddenly lost its grip from the owners wrist and fell squarely into the mug of blood red cranberry juice Hermione held in her hand. The way it floated on it's surface made Hermione cringe. _

_It turned red._

_Blood red._

The phone continued to ring, and she started to become hesitant. It couldn't be. It was no coincidence on how her bracelet her father had given her suddenly fell of her wrist into a pool of _blood. _Broken images of her father started to fill her mind, making her moan uncomfortably. Ridding her thoughts, she picked up the phone with a slight hesitation. The background was silent, and she heard nothing but the wind that she assumed came from her own comfortable home.

_Everything's fine, Hermione._

"Hermione, dear, something's happened to your father."

It was long before she noticed her phone shattered on the floor, her mother's voice crying in the background.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

**A/N: Finally. That took so long to make. Thank you so much to **_**THEGHOSTCHIC**_** for helping me with some parts! **

_**The heart shatters…and rebuilds itself eventually with time…await the next chapter…**_

**TheFunkyDurian**


	5. The Black Carpet: Pieces

**FOUR**

The shattered pieces on the floor remained idle. She could still hear her mother's voice reverberate through the battered speakers. Her breathing escalated, her head throbbing beneath her skin. She knelt on the shattered pieces and held the phone by her ear, fumbling with it amidst her sweaty palms. Her heart pounded wildly against her chest, and the lacerations were deep within her veins, forming a clot of despair that will stay for eternity. Not even a single breath was heard from the other line, merely silence. Pure silence. She felt a cloud of confusion shroud her thoughts, disabling her from thinking properly. The atmosphere darkened, the sun refused to shine brightly against her windowsill, her world trapped in darkness as time refused to pass in a normal fashion.

"M-mother?" her frail voice trembled. A mere racked sob on the other line echoed against the walls of her ears.

"Something happened to your father, dear." Her mother's broken voice went into sobs of lost hope and faith. Hermione listened intently as her mother's sharp intakes of breath reverberated, yet amidst her trials to gain composure, the traitor tears refused to stay intact. She tried to breathe slowly, making her blood circulate smoothly so that her head would stop swirling pointlessly.

_Slowly now, one breath after another._

"I found him in his room." Her mother continued, her voice pregnant with terror and restlessness.

_One breath after another..._

"There was blood everywhere and—"

_Slowly…inhale…exhale…_

"He was murdered."

_No._

She felt a laceration form by her chest as her lips started to quiver violently. She tried to calm herself, but a series of hysterical sobs escaped her lips in a raucous manner. She found herself kneeling onto the creaking flooring, her knees bucked from the sudden twist of events. Her lungs ached in agony, and her throat started to run dry.

"I…" The phone fell onto the ground. Broken. Beyond Repair. She felt her hands bleed between broken shards of glass, the same hands she ran over her face. Tears of dried blood. _She was broken. Beyond Repair, just like everything around her. No more. No bloody more, please! _The eerie scream that emanated from her lips sent a cold chill to run past her.

_Father._

She then felt warmth, and found comfort in a pair of loving arms willingly wrapped around her. Ron brought her into his large arms, rocking her back and forth as a few more tears leaked from her cinnamon eyes, trailing little paths all over his dark green sweater. That small inkling of hope rose, and she wrapped her arms around him, closing her eyes in bliss. She imagined his pale arms brush against the arch of her back and through her waist, her body so close to his that the murky scent of his cologne tantalized her every being. Sooner or later she would retreat into finding, to her disappointment, blue eyes looking back at her. The green would not be there. The jet black hair would be scarlet. The pale hands would be freckled. The fantasy would turn into disappointment.

"Hush, Hermione."

"Let go, Ron. Please. It just makes me cry more." Her eyes stung of boiling melancholy tears of sadness. Her plead was left unanswered by Ron, who continued to hold her and pull her close to him.

"Cry it out."

"I've run out of tears to cry." His tightened grip made her emit a sob that scarred her throat. She clutched onto his shirt tightly, holding onto her dear life that seemed to be slipping away. She was crumbling.

She was broken.

"I want him here now, Ron. I need him here." She was whispering fiercely into his ears, and even as Ron released of her, she remained linked to him, her face buried on his shoulder. "I need him, Ronald. I want him here with me. " She started to sob with tears that refused to fall. None came. Her voice was dry and croaky, and she wished for the pain to recede. _No more. No bloody more. _The pain was extreme. She felt her chest tighten, and her breathing paced. It was excruciating. She wanted it to stop. She wanted it to vanish. _Leave me alone. _

_Let me live my life in peace._

"Lets talk, Hermione."

"I don't want to."

"But we have to."

"I want Harry."

"Hermione, now's not the time."

"I _need _him now."

"You have me. _Me, _Hermione. Talk to me!"

"Father's dead." The bare whisper pierced his ears as he stood still, his hands shaking as if imitating a reverberating echo. They were clutched into two murderous fistfuls. Hermione heard his breathing quicken. _No, Harry. Impossible. _

"No." and he felt her clutch tighter onto him, and he understood that it was a comforting act. He felt his own eyes brim with tears. _No. No. No. _The whole tension in the atmosphere basked in the already penetrating silence that hung loosely above the pair.

They both searched their heads for anything they had done to deserve this, yet _nothing ever came up._

She clutched onto him tighter.

_Absolutely nothing._

……

He grunted in irritation.

People were staring at him as he walked home. Then again, no one can blame them.

His trousers were ripped, and he walked barefooted on the sharp asphalt. His shirt was ruffled, and obscured beneath it were multitudes of dots—dried blood. His coat was muddy and damp and dingy. He was acutely pale, and his breathing was heavy. His glasses were askew and there were bits of glass and leaves in his unruly hair. He pulled his coat tighter around him, trying to conceal what's left of his already suspicious appearance. His only aim was to cover the dried blood and pull the hat further down his head. He felt weak, and the sun's scorching heat over his body was only contributing to his dizziness, contributing as the reminder of who he was—

_What_ he was.

After an eternity of heaving, one foot after another on the hot concrete sidewalk, he finally found himself standing in front of an old apartment with the hinges on the front door rusting, missing bricks and vines curling up the frame of the ebony door. The garbage was piled up at the side of the stairs leading to the entrance, and the heavy waves of 60's music reverberated outside, leaving him annoyed to no end. Yet there he was, climbing slowly, his long, pale fingers wrapping around the rusty doorknob. He pushed hard, the door the door warping so loud that it was hard to proceed unnoticed.

He brushed his feet over the 'Welcome' doormat sitting by the entrance. Its old age was visible, and Harry clearly remembered it's existence way before he and Ron moved in. The only visible letters were _'elome'_, and in a fashion known to the two for so long, all the visitors who passed through the door never failed to declare that the 'W' and the 'C' were missing. After Harry had brushed all the dirt from his feet, bits of rock laying idly beneath it's exterior, it was then that he noticed that the letter 'o' was missing a few bits, thus making it look like a 'u'.

_Elume. Great._

With an irritable sigh, he continued on. The stairs were creaking, and Harry managed to maneuver around them. He had gotten too used to this after one too many nights of sneaking in. He subconsciously ran his hands along the banister, splintering his thumb in the process. The aged apartment has been there since World War II, and it was a miracle that it continues to remain intact and sturdy amidst the modern times.

It was then, underneath the crackling ceiling, did his actions haunt him.

_Murderer._

_MURDERER!_

"im not a murderer." His moaned under his teeth, his feet stomping louder onto the creaking wood.

_Murderer!_

_You killed me, Harry Potter!_

"Stop it. Stop it!"

_Mark my words Harry Potter._

His head ached in such scorching pain. He held onto the banister tightly, yet the pain refused to recede.

_I will make your life a living hell!_

Hastened steps, he took. More, quick and desperate. _Get out of my head!_ He pleaded. He now stood outside the door, clutching the doorknob in desperation. The door flew open, and he stood by the doorframe panting. _No more pain. No more pain!_

After a few more heavy steps, Harry finally made his way through the dusty corridor and clasped his long, pale fingers around the rusty golden doorknob, after shaking it hard and pressing his weight against the old wooden door, it opened violently, his power incapable of being restrained. His display of force brought the door down, and to his demise, he had seen Hermione, the woman he had loved for so long trapped in a tight embrace with his best friend.

_His heart would've hurt…_

_If it were only beating, that is._

In an instant, the bright emerald green twinkled in an ominous manner. They turned cold and lifeless, the rage rising from the pit of his stomach. He felt his knuckles close by his sides, his pals bleeding as his nails ran deep into his skin. Enraged as he was, they continued on like a lifeless picture. Images of years living in the dark, years of watching his beloved only through broken windows and moth-eaten curtains, years of denial and self-anger. And here he was, marveling on how it took him only seconds-- seconds to realize that with every minuscule thing he had done was for his beloved, that of course she would've picked his best friend over him. Seconds to realize that he would never see her again, to realize that she would hate him forever after he had just murdered her father.

It only took seconds.

"_Sorry. Im interrupting." _

His voice trembled violently, the blood dripping from his palms and vanishing into non-being as it reached the floor. The rage grew and grew, and he felt the couple stare at him in panic. Another hissing sound escaped his lips in anger and echoed throughout the living room.

_He smelled fear._

Their tight embrace disappeared immediately, and for a moment he really thought that he would leap on Ron and beat him to a pulp. There was a battle raging within, and now it looked like he was about to lose. Hermione's gasp was the last he heard before storming through the creaking door, hearing Hermione's frantic cries and pleas as his cloak dithered behind him. He paced to the fire escape and jumped down in haste. He wanted to get away, to erase the image that started to haunt him. He heard small footsteps chase after him, her voice shaken as she called out his name.

_Images_

They still wouldn't leave his head, he ran hastily, feeling his injured ribs send waves of pain throughout his body. He was breathing so heavily that his lungs felt like bursting. Everything just hurt. The air was unfriendly, sending chills down his spine. He felt cold.

_Oh so cold._

"Harry! Wait, please!"

The haunting voice resounded in his ears.

_I will make you pay, Harry Potter. I will make you pay!_

The stairs seemed to squeak louder now, making him grunt in irritation. Each step brought the image of Ron and Hermione, and it lingered in his mind, camouflaged by the rage and the emanating anger that he felt at that very moment. He turned onto the crevice, leading him onto a dark musky alleyway that smelled strongly of rusted iron and gasoline. He rested his hands on his knees and panted heavily. Feeling bile rise up from his throat, he groaned as a sharp pain originated from his right. He had forgotten that he was bleeding, but blood was not a necessity anymore. Vampires are condemned to immortality. They are no longer familiar with emotion.

"Harry!"

Harry felt himself lose another fragile piece of himself eternally to her angelic voice. He saw the alley retreat onto a field of trees, and he chose to run. Hermione followed after him, running so fast that she felt her muscles burn. They were only a few feet away and she stretched her arms. Only a few more inches.

"Will you listen to me? Harry, stop!" The frustration was now evident in her voice. Grasping the hem of his sleeve tightly, she pushed further, so that her hand clasped around his arm. It took every ounce of his power to avoid her heart-wrenching stare and jerk his arm away. "Stop." She was panting, her hands by her chest before he saw crystalline tears fall to the green grass. Harry looked away immediately, feeling tears of his own burning his eyes. How could he stand to look at the person who was just inflicted with such great pain all because of him? He felt shame build up by the pit of his stomach. Her nails dug deep into his arm, grasping it tight as she stepped closer to him.

"Stop running away from fear, Harry. It's not who you are."

"You don't know me." He tried to jerk his arm away, but she held onto it tighter. "Go away." That small, unintended growl that escaped his lips made Hermione's grip loosen against his sleeve. She looked unperturbed, yet her eyes portrayed fear—fear towards him, and it was like a stab in the chest. "Just leave me alone, Hermione." At once, he missed her hand clinging onto him. Her face dug deep into her palms, and her shoulders racked together with her broken sobs. It reverberated around the forest, hauntingly melodic and rhythmic. Her knees gave in and rested on the dewy grass, her crying growing louder. Harry looked away and bit on his lip, the tears in his eyes falling. It was then that it evaporated completely that he felt the guilt.

"Don't do this, Harry…" Harry saw her eyes, red and swollen, looking back at him pleadingly. If he could just resist…

"Tell me what's wrong. Im tired of being left out in the dark, Harry." A cloud of tears blurred her vision, and she could see his figure standing above her. "Haven't we known each other that long to at least know that I will never leave you? Nor will I ever _lie_ to you?" Her voice was now just a mere whisper. _"That I will never stop loving you?"_

Harry stared at her, and somewhere, he felt a smile tug at his lips. That small display of emotion made him shake his head irritably. Now was not the time; There was a thick knot forming in the pit of his stomach. He had _just_ murdered her father, and yet it seemed as if he had done so years ago, and not only a few hours. He recalled resenting the man for keeping him away from Hermione, _his_ Hermione, but he couldn't find it in him to tell her... Not now... Now today...

_You murdered me Harry Potter!_

His shoulders shook with guilt and pleasure—she had just confessed her feelings to him. The weight of all his sins had come to him so suddenly, like a blow to the jaw, painful and numbing.

"Tell me what's wrong." She tried to sympathize with him, yet he remained stubborn.

"Just go away, Hermione. Go to Ron, for all I care!" His voice was pungent, and it seemed to pierce through her heart. "Just go, Hermione. Get out of my face."

"Harry, goddamnit! Tell me! Stop being so stubborn and let me into your life!" She tried to reach for him, to touch his sleeve and know that her friend was still there somewhere, but he jerked his hand away. He scowled down at her, and at that very moment he saw anger. With as much strength she had, she stood up amidst the dew on her soaked pants, her vision blurry from the tears. His feet stiffened, as if glued to the very grass he stood on, his head throbbing violently that it mimicked a roaring jackhammer.

"You are unbelievable, Potter! Completely unbelievable! Here I am, trying to be a friend to you and all you do is push me away!" He heard his last name escape her lips, and he knew that there was hatred. He felt the rage emanate from her skin, which was now flushed pink with anger.

"Everything doesn't revolve you, Hermione! Sometimes, people like to be alone! Sometimes, people don't want nagging women by their side each and every minute of every _fucking _day!" His scream was loud-louder than he had expected it to be. She remained still, yet he sensed the fear morphing inside of her. She was afraid of him. _Fucking_ afraid of him.

In a bare whisper, evident that she has given up on the argument, she spoke "I just need to know that you're okay. I just need to know if my best friend is still in there, somewhere. I just need to know…"

"Oh, I'm fine, really! Really! Im a vampire, Im usually on a killing spree every single day. It's a good life for me, Hermione! It truly is. But your friend Ron needs all the help he can get! Yeah! Ron! Maybe you can nag him instead of me? Maybe you can give him hugs instead of me? You know, maybe you can even kiss him instead of me! After all, he _is _the one who needs help not me. Not me, who practically tries to bleed to death, only to find out that he'll live again anyway! Yeah! So go ahead to Ron and be the little _whore_ that you are-" A sound resounded through the trees, and he found himself looking down onto the floor. His cheek throbbed in the most excruciating pain…so did his empty chest. She was standing dangerously close to him, her eyes blazing with anger, her cheeks stained with tears. She could feel her breathe heavily onto him, deep breaths of rage. It frightened him…

It frightened him that she looked cold and heartless.

Like himself.

"How _dare _you insult me like that! I have done nothing but care for you, and here you are, acting like some jealous _bastard!" _She was breathing heavily, taking a step forward for each menacing word she let out. Harry hadn't noticed himself backing away.

"For once, I don't feel ashamed for hurting you." She stopped abruptly. With a step backwards, she wiped the tears evident on her face. There was silence. Nothing more but mere silence. Harry felt the guilt arise in his chest, and he felt the rage come just as quick.

"You broke my heart, Harry."

"Hermione, look I'm-"

"And to think that I_ loved _you." With one last glance at him, one lingering glance that Harry wished he could steal away and keep forever, she turned her back on him and walked away.

_Harry Potter, welcome to hell._

**……**

**A/N: Done. Sorry it took so long, I've been very busy with everything. And thank you so much to _theghostchic_ for helping me with all of this.  
**

**The teaser-riddle for the next chapter:**

_Heart forlorn, melancholy nothingness_

_Two hearts broken, in a state of restlessness_

_Lacerations down so deep_

_Will he ever have her heart to keep?_

**TheFunkyDurian**


End file.
